


The Open Wound

by Selador



Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Gen, Happily Ignoring Supernatural Canon Post Season 5, Hell Trauma, I Am Still Adam Milligan Trash, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Taking Liberties With Reality, Trauma, Vessel Consent Issues, Vessel Trauma, mostly everybody lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:50:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador/pseuds/Selador
Summary: After three years, Aaron Hotchner received the following call: “Hello Agent Hotchner. This is Highway Patrol of Wayne County in Michigan, Officer Tony Jenkins. We picked up a man we’ve identified as Adam Milligan from where he was walking down the I-696. We brought him to the station and ran his name, and saw your name attached to his case file.”Kate had her own family, long before John Winchester and his bloodline ever stepped into her life and damned her son. Her sister and brother-in-law never stopped trying to find out what happened to her and her son.





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a grad student applying to do even more school, so my writing schedule doesn't qualify as a schedule. But I feel like sharing this. 
> 
> Am also trying to balance the character I want Adam to be, with the psychological ramifications of what's happened to him, also knowing that what happened to him is beyond typical human experience. 
> 
> I firmly believe that all crime/detective shows are alternate universes in which law enforcement actually works and doesn't reproduce an oppressive system that reinforces social and economic inequalities, so what I'm saying is that I don't care that my portrayal of the FBI is unrealistic. I'm probably taking about the same amount of liberties as the show does anyway.
> 
> Very vaguely inspired by Cerberus, by Crunchysunrises.

Aaron Hotchner meticulously filed every case they had, except one. One particular case—long gone cold—he kept on his desk. It often was buried under other files, and he even managed to go several weeks without looking at it.

But every so often—almost as often as he stayed at the office past midnight, which was too often—he would open up the file and examine its contents. For anything that might have slipped his notice before. For three years, he kept that file on his desk, and for three years, he found nothing. No clue, no profile, nothing in the photographs of the blood and gore left behind that gave him any sort of signal of where to look next.

After three years, Adam Milligan was found wandering I-696 in Michigan, and the case was cracked open with the missing second victim found.

…

Aaron Hotchner was present for Adam Milligan’s birth. Kate had wanted her sister there, and Haley had wanted him there, and so—he was there.

He handled the arrangements at Kate’s house to make sure everything was ready for her and her baby. He assured her friends and neighbors that she and the baby were doing well. He took care of things for Kate, so Haley could be there for her sister while she was giving birth to a child at age nineteen without naming the father and while she was still establishing her nursing career. Aaron couldn’t help but wonder at her decisions, but said nothing more after Kate had tersely thanked him for his offer for financial assistance for whatever option she chose after she had revealed her pregnancy to them.

In their file, it described Kate: white, age thirty-nine, blond, body was found in a crypt in the local cemetery; she had been physically subdued and held down while pieces of her were ripped out by what were suspected to have been human teeth. She had been eaten alive. Another note in the file: the crypt across from Kate’s had blood in it, blood that matched Adam Milligan. But his body was nowhere to be found.

Not in the files—though they lived in different states, Haley and Kate called each other every few days. Also not in the files—Kate may have struggled with single parenthood, her education, and then career, but she thrived. Aaron and Haley had been to her beautiful house in Minnesota for Hanukkah the previous winter. Adam Milligan, open, responsible, hard-working, and brilliant, was to return to his first year at college. Adam Milligan could have gone to any university he wanted, but hadn’t wanted to go too far away from home. Who had, when his mother had been reported missing, drove the six hours from the University of Wisconsin to Windom, Minnesota, only to disappear like his mother at some point after he had arrived in Windom. Adam Milligan was pre-med, and following in his mother’s footsteps.

Adam Milligan, whose blood was found in a crypt across from his mother’s body—that was in the files. Not—Aaron’s sister-in-law, for these past twelve years, but he had known her since she was eleven, when he and Haley had started dating.

And then he gets a phone call. He was in his office, going through paperwork. The file was out of sight, and even out of mind.

“Hotchner,” he answered.

He didn’t expect—“Hello Agent Hotchner. This is Highway Patrol of Wayne County in Michigan, Officer Tony Jenkins. We picked up a man we’ve identified as Adam Milligan from where he was walking down the I-696. We brought him to the station and ran his name, and saw your name attached to his case file.”

After three years, the chances of a kidnap victim still being alive were minute. He would need Reid to tell him the exact statistics. “He’s alive?”

“Yes. There was blood on him, but it didn’t seem like his own. We didn’t see any obvious wounds, but he’s just gone into the emergency care unit. We’ll know more in a little bit.”

“What hospital?” Aaron demanded brusquely, already online to book a flight for two to Detroit, Michigan. He would ask Haley if she wanted to come—she might want to, for her only nephew. She had taken Kate’s gruesome death as hard as expected, and the lack of closure for her nephew had left her unsettled since. But she might, as Aaron predicted, allow him to go first with Jason. Adam had seen plenty of his Uncle Aaron growing up, and he could be the family Adam would need now, while he and Jason could find what they needed to catch the unsub who did this to Adam.

Though as Adam had been found wandering down the freeway, covered in blood… Aaron had a guess at what had happened for Adam to get away three years later.

“Detroit Medical Center, the Receiving Hospital. We’re keeping a guard on him. Do you know who we would should be keeping an eye out for?”

“I’ll find out,” Aaron said.

…

Haley let Aaron and Jason go in her stead to Michigan, after telling Aaron that Adam was going to come and stay with them, period. “That’s fine,” Aaron told her, although his opinion hadn't been asked for. “I just need to know if his abductor is still alive.”

“And Kate’s murderer,” Haley added. “Do you think Adam…? Do you think he…?” Killed his captor, she was struggling to say. While Aaron knew that almost anyone could be driven to the point of murder if given the right set of circumstances, he also found it difficult to imagine the boy he knew committing murder, even if it would be considered justified.

“I don’t know, Haley. I hope not.” But he might have, and Aaron was not going to be able to come at this case objectively. And that’s why—Jason.

They are in Detroit before noon the next day, Jason a solid presence beside him despite his recent recommencement in the BAU. Not in the files—a five-year-old Adam singing happy birthday for his grandmother the loudest of them all. Aaron wondered how long it would be before he smiled again.

“He’s in here,” said Officer Jenkins. “Some of the blood on him _was_ his, but they couldn’t find where it come from. He’s actually pretty fit—nothing to keep him here long, anyway.” Jenkins shrugged. “Some of the blood wasn’t his, but we haven’t matched it with anyone. Anyones. It seemed like there were multiple sources.”

Multiple unsubs. That had been noted as a high likelihood in the file. Two, specifically. Aaron wondered if they had been right.

“He was taken for three years,” Jenkins continued. “And I’ve had two deputies with him this entire time. We didn’t find any injuries, but… well. He’s not well, agents.”

“How do you mean?” Jason asked.

Jenkins sighed. “This is what I’ve seen and what my deputies and the staff here have told me. He doesn’t seem to remember much, or he’s just not talking. We’re not sure how much he understands out of basic directions. When we spoke at the station, he was able to tell me his name, and also that ‘Michael’s dead,’ but we don’t know who that is.”

Neither did Aaron. Their lead suspects hadn’t included anyone named Michael. There _had_ been a couple of Michaels who had posted their condolences on the Facebook memorial page, but none that had stood out as a potential suspect. Had they missed something? “We’ve been looking along the freeway for a body, starting at where we found Adam, but so far, nothing. Nothing else on his clothes—which is also another odd thing actually. His clothes. 

“How so?” Aaron asked.

“Based on the descriptions and photos in the missing person’s report, he’s wearing the same clothes he was last seen in. The blood wasn’t so bad that you can’t see they’re the exact same, and they’re even in about the same shape as they were three years ago. You know, aside from being covered in blood,” the officer made an awkward wave. “What do you make of that?”

Jason interjected, “That likely the unsub had a very specific image in mind he needed Adam to keep—likely the new clothes he got for Adam during his captivity were identical, to keep that image.”

Jenkins nodded slowly.

“Have they checked for head injuries?” Aaron asked, a cold dread in his chest.

“You’d have to ask the doctor about that. The results should be in by now though.”

“Very well, I will.”

…

The MRI scan was not good.

No evidence of physical trauma on the brain itself, but something—some unknown chemical, the doctors suspected—had been used on Adam and caused a rather alarming effect. Certain parts of his brain were over-active, and other parts under-active. Over-active: all of his sensory input, and parts that process and stabilize emotions. Under-active: memory, and most worryingly, involuntary movement.

The doctor said that Adam might not tell them what happened because he might not remember what had happened. And he could not regulate his emotions to process what memories he did have. Irritation from an overload of sensory input was also likely to inhibit the conversation.

…

Adam was sitting on the bed, gazing out the window. He looked—fine, actually. Like the past three years hadn’t happened. Despite the years and whatever he went through, he still had that glow of youth.

Odd. Aaron expected an Adam weary and wilted. Most victims of long captivity were. But there he was, staring blankly out the window, face as youthful fresh as when he was nineteen.

“Adam,” Aaron called out. Adam’s head turned to look at him. No recognition. His face remained eerily blank and unmoving. The doctor had warned him about this, when showing him the MRI scans. “Do you remember me?”

No response. Just staring. Aaron catalogued the seconds and what can be done to a person in three years to result in this. He became queasy thinking about it, and thinking about the person Adam was before all of this.

“It’s me, your Uncle Aaron,” Aaron said slowly, walking into the room. Despite everything, Adam tracks his movements with his eyes, until Aaron was seated in the hospital chair. Jason, not far behind him, took the other one. Adam did not glance his way. “Do you remember me?”

Adam blinked, and Aaron thought he could see a microexpression of familiarity—or surprise. “Uncle—Aaron?”

“Yes, Adam. Uncle Aaron. I’m married to your aunt, Haley. Remember her?”

“Aunt… Haley. Yes. I remember her.”

“Good. This is my partner, Agent Jason Gideon.” Adam’s eyes flicked over to Jason for a second, before returning to Aaron. “Adam,” Aaron repeated his name, to give Adam something to ground himself on. “We’re going to ask you a few questions about what happened to you, and then I’m going to take you home as soon as the hospital clears you. Do you understand?”

He did, apparently. His face crumpled and he repeated, “Home,” sounding hollow. “My mom is dead.”

“Yes. She is. I’m sorry, Adam.”

A pause, where Adam’s stare did not falter. Aaron did not fidget; he waited. “Did she have a nice funeral?”

“Yes. We held a memorial service for you as well, after a year. Haley’s thrilled to hear you’re alive. She told me to bring you back with me—she wants you to stay with us for as long as you like.”

Adam’s nodding, slowly. Nothing he did was quickly. Was it taking him longer to process information? Was it increased sensory input, or some other side effect of his unusual brain activity?

“Thank you for holding a memorial service for me,” Adam said.

Aaron hadn’t expected such a calm reaction. Without emotional regulation, it seemed unlikely that he would remain so stoic. “We still kept your case on hand. If we had gotten anything that could have let us find you earlier…”

Adam shook his head but said nothing.

After a sizable pause, where it was clear Adam was not going to add anything else, Jason asked, kind and paternal, “Can I ask you some questions, Adam?" 

“No,” Adam said sharply, eyes darting to Jason for the first time and away. “I want to go home.” He looked at Aaron, far more focused than he had been in the entire conversation. “Take me home.” A pause, and then, “Please.”

“I’ll take you home as soon as I can. We need to know everything you can tell us about your captor.”

“He’s dead.”

That confirmed Aaron’s suspicions. But only one unsub? “What happened, Adam?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. He’s dead. He can’t get me. I want to go home now,” but Adam’s eyes were not focusing as well. He wasn’t even looking at them. Aaron worried, and glanced at Jason, who was frowning.

“Was it Michael?” Aaron asked. It was contrary to their previous suspicions, but since Adam had mentioned that name, it was best to follow it. Adam flinched, but said nothing. An answer enough. If only they knew who Michael was… and why, then, a black ’67 Chevy Impala had been seen in Windom when Kate and Adam had both gone missing.

“Do you know where his body is, Adam?” Jason asked.

“Body?”

“Michael’s.”

Adam made a peculiar sound—it was almost a laugh, which sent chills up Aaron’s spine. Victims who were captive as long as Adam usually experienced Stockholm Syndrome, and were brainwashed into believing they somehow belonged to their captor. Michael might have referred to Adam’s body as his own. Depending on what had been done to him, he might view his own body as belonging to his captors.

Aaron would have to ask if they had done a rape kit—perhaps he would ask Jason to check on that. “A body.” Adam’s eyes flicked around. He was nervous. Why? “There is no body.”

“But you said he’s dead?”

“Right. But there’s no body for you to find.” He curled up so his head was resting on his knees. “Please. I don’t want to talk about this. Nothing’s coming after me.” Adam was beginning to cry. Aaron noted the word choice. “I want to go home.”

Aaron and Jason shared a glance. They would need more. There were too many questions left unanswered. Who was Michael, and why was he dead? Was he the captor or another victim Adam had known? How had Adam get away? And why were Dean and Sam Winchester’s car spotted in Windom when Kate and Adam had disappeared?

There weren’t many ways to actually make a body completely disappear: cremation, wood chipper, and disposal in bodies of water were the most effective. Animals, perhaps, could dispose of a body as well, but they would leave the bones.

They had to continue their search for a body. Aaron had pictures to show Adam—of the Impala, of the Winchesters, of the retired police officer who had disappeared at the same time as Kate but had never been found—but this was not the time to show them to his nephew, who was only crying harder.

“All right,” Aaron said. “I’ll stay with you until the hospital can release you. Jason will check in with Officer Jenkins about any news. And we’ll go home. When you feel a bit better, we can talk.”

…

After meeting with Adam, Aaron called Haley to quietly tell her the news.

“Oh, Adam,” she said, starting to cry herself. “Adam…”

“He’s in one piece. The prognosis is decent—he’ll never be the same, but there’s hope that his memory will get better.”

A sob. Aaron felt helpless as he listened to his wife cry. “Haley… I’ll bring him home as soon as the hospital releases him. It should be soon.”

“You won’t stay down there to investigate whatever hell hole he escaped from?” Haley asked, surprised and a little indignant.

Aaron sighed. “We haven’t found anything. We’ve combed the area, and nothing. Adam’s our only source, and our only living victim. If Adam doesn’t talk, there’s nothing to investigate, and he doesn’t want to talk. And he needs to come home.”

Haley sniffled. “Don’t be too hard on him, Aaron.”

He would have felt affronted, but he was too aware of the distress he and his team inevitably caused victims by asking them questions about their experience. “I won’t. Just what we need, I promise."

…

Adam still didn’t want to talk, but he was calmer in a slightly unnerving way, and Aaron showed him the pictures of the Winchesters once he seemed stable enough. He went sans Jason this time. Perhaps Adam might open up if it was just his uncle.

“Do you recognize either of these men?”

Adam only seemed puzzled. Aaron instantly reevaluated the events with that information. The Winchesters were likely in Windom at the same time that Adam and Kate disappeared, so they had not likely taken Adam nor Kate, or else Adam’s reaction would be different. Dean and Sam were mission-oriented killers—their missions were based in inconsistent religious delusions, and once they chose a target, the target didn’t survive. Perhaps they had been after something else? Maybe they had been after whoever Michael was?

But then Adam said, “Yeah. What about them?”

Years of practice contained his instinctive shudder. Another reevaluation, back to original suspicions. If either Winchester had had his nephew for any length of time… but neither man was known for holding captives long term. And there was still the matter of Michael. Aaron steeled himself. “How do you know them?” 

“Sam tried to protect me,” Adam answered easily. Years of practice did not contain his surprise at this, and Adam clearly saw his reaction. “When he was imprisoned with me,” he clarified helpfully, but only made the imagined scenario more confusing. Sam Winchester was captured _with_ Adam? “But he got rescued and I didn’t. And he never… he never came back for me.” Adam looked sorrowful, but not like he was about to cry again. Resigned.

Aaron pressed on, “Did Sam and Dean kidnap you?”

Surprise. Genuine surprise, at that. “No.”

He didn’t want to ask, but: “Did they kill your mother?”

Greater surprise, verging on outrage. “No!” And now Adam seemed upset. Aaron was expecting that sooner, when he showed him pictures of the Winchesters, but apparently Sam Winchester was a captive along with Adam, not his captor. And, worryingly, it sounded as though Adam felt some attachment to Sam Winchester.

“So Sam Winchester was captured along with you?” Aaron asked. Who could capture a man like Sam Winchester? He and Dean Winchester were military trained by their Marine father, and while both men were tall and muscular, Sam’s height was an intimidating 6’4”. Sam Winchester would not have gone easily.

And the only consistent behavior Dean Winchester has maintained throughout the years is his determination to protect his younger brother by any means necessary.

“Yeah.”

“By Michael?”

Adam sighed. He was tired. Bored? “And his brother, yeah.”

“Dean was also captured?” Aaron asked with a subdued sense of alarm. Had Adam survived captivity with not just the unsubs, but with serial killers as fellow prisoners?

But Adam shook his head, unaware of Aaron’s internal distress. “No. Michael’s brother. Lucifer. They…” An odd hesitation here. Why did he need to think over his word choice? “… took me and Sam. Dean got Sam out, but not me.”

Aaron quickly parsed through the information in that statement, treating it as if he would any other case. Michael and Lucifer were brothers, likely operating under pseudonyms, with religious, grandiose delusions and likely narcissist personalities—or a God complex, given the hierarchal rank and mythology of the specific pseudonyms. The fact they were able to take both Adam and Sam—neither of which were vulnerable targets, and Aaron wanted to know if Adam had expected Dean to rescue him as well, what it means if Dean Winchester _couldn’t_ and not _wouldn’t_ —meant great skill and organization.

It was unlikely, but: “Do you know what happened to Dean and Sam?”

“No.” Adam looked… stoic again. Bored, even. Aaron continued while he could. 

“What about Lucifer? Is he alive?”

“No.”

“So both Michael and Lucifer are dead?”

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Yes.”

Aaron took in a slow breath. Adam glanced at him. “What happened Adam?”

A long pause—Aaron was determined to wait. He needed to know this. Eventually, after several minutes of staring at Aaron, Adam began slowly, “I was never going to be rescued. No one was coming for me.” Aaron wanted to protest, but—he hadn’t found Adam in three years. The fact that his file was on his desk all that time would be at most a cold comfort. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to spend the rest of eternity there, with Michael and Lucifer. I had to get out. I had to…” He struggled again, and said with finality, “I had to.”

“You did what you had to.”

“I did what I had to,” Adam repeated, quiet and cold. He huddled up the blankets on the hospital bed around him. They sat in silence—there were still questions Aaron needed answers to. Where was Adam held for all these years? Where were Michael’s and Lucifer’s bodies, or how were they disposed of? What were their real names, and who were their other victims? How had Sam Winchester gotten away? And what had happened while he and Adam were captives together?

Sam had along with his brother tortured and murdered dozens of people all over the country, left a pediatric nurse exsanguinated after kidnapping and torturing her, held a bank hostage, butchered an elderly couple with their own Christmas tree, and blown up an FBI agent and a police station full of people—if it was a law in the book, either Sam or Dean had broken it. They had a particular fondness for tying women up and decapitating them, but sometimes they shot them in the head instead. Sam Winchester was charming, educated, intelligent, handsome, trained, and strong.

If they were captive together, Adam could have formed an attachment to Sam. It certainly sounded like he had. It did not sound like he had formed an attachment with his captors, but he still might have despite having killed them. It was difficult to be held by someone for so long without forming some sort of emotional attachment.

And it seemed like he had some familiarity with Dean Winchester as well. “How did Sam Winchester get out?”

Adam gave him a look of teenaged annoyance. Aaron wondered suddenly if he knew he was now twenty-two. “Dean rescued him.”

“But not you?”

A small sigh. He was genuinely dismayed by this. Aaron had been right—Adam had expected Dean Winchester to rescue him. “No.”

“Did you meet Dean Winchester at all, during your captivity?”

A pause. Aaron didn’t think he was necessarily lying every time he had to pause before he answered—that would make more sense. Rather, it appeared that Adam was surprised by a question, and didn’t know how to answer. Though why some of these questions elicited that response, Aaron didn’t know. Some key piece of information was missing.

“No?” Adam responded. “I met him before. He tried to stop Michael from taking me." 

“He did?” Typically, new facts about unsubs helped clarify a profile to work with; the opposite happened with the Winchesters. Whenever they began to have a profile make sense, they did something that threw a wrench into it. The timeline was an embarrassment, and Aaron had been leery of Henrickson’s zeal in his pursuit of the Winchesters, and his enthusiasm to pin every crime on them, no matter how implausible. His zeal had had the benefit of keeping Aaron’s team of the BAU away from the case; and while Aaron would never admit it out loud, he didn’t want his team on the Winchesters’ case. The contradictions didn’t add up, and it made Aaron uneasy. And now, too many people who pursued the Winchesters or who were merely associated with them had died. Aaron continued to veer his team away from that investigation. Despite their notoriety, Aaron left them to other teams.

And the contradictions continued. Despite Adam’s revelations, Dean was certainly a sexual sadist and a mission-oriented serial killer with paranoid and supernatural delusions.

“Why would Dean Winchester try to rescue you?”

Adam scoffed. “I don’t know. He did a half-assed job of it anyway.”

That wasn’t a lie. It was sardonic, but he wasn’t lying. That’s—good.

Perhaps Dean had seen something of himself in Adam. Looking at the photo of Dean Winchester’s smug face and Adam’s resigned one, there was a similarity. And Dean, by the age of nineteen, had multiple charges of public lewdness and soliciting money for sex. It was likely that Dean had been left by his father, John Winchester, to care for Sam on his own. Given John’s years of activity, this may have started since when Dean was only four years old, which was an abusive amount of responsibility to place upon a child. If Adam reminded Dean of himself or of family… Dean seemed capable of forming attachments if they were familial.

“When can I get out of here?” Adam asked.

“The doctors say they can release you tomorrow. Do you think Dean or Sam Winchester will come after you, once they hear you’ve escaped?”

Another scoff, and this time, it was accompanied by a sneer. “How would they even hear that? No. Are we done yet?”

“Are you sure?” Seeing Adam’s rebellious expression, Aaron added, “They’re dangerous men, Adam. If they’re going to come after you, we need to know so we can take the appropriate safety measures.”

The rebellious expression faded, and grew contemplative. “No,” he said with certainty.

“Is there anyone else, who you haven’t mentioned, that might come after you?”

“No.”

Adam’s expression was closed off, cold. Aaron wasn’t going to get any more on this route.

“We can take a break if you’d like,” Aaron said, and then offered, “Haley is pregnant.”

A couple seconds for that information to process, then Adam startled. Aaron was relieved to get a reaction at all. “She’s pregnant?”

“Yes. Six months along. It’s going to be a boy. We’re still thinking of a name.”

“I’m going to have a cousin,” Adam said, looking tentatively pleased. Then his brows scrunched. “Do you have any other children? Since I’ve been…”

“We do not.”

“What about Aunt Jessica?”

“She doesn’t either.”

“What about Sean?”

Aaron smiled, expression feeling tight on his own face. “No.”

Adam nodded slowly. Relaxing again. “What names are you thinking of?”

“Well, I like unique names. Like Butch, Hans—”

“No,” Adam interrupted, horrified. “Those are terrible.”

They were, but Aaron couldn’t tell Adam why he didn’t like Haley’s more sensible options. So Aaron chuckled and added, “Don’t worry. Haley thinks so, too.”

“Good,” Adam nodded. “How long have I been missing?”

Aaron frowned. The detectives or doctor should have told him that. Or—did it have to do with his memory? “Three years.”

Subtle, but there: relief, disbelief, and exhaustion. The relief didn’t make sense—three years is a long time to be held in captivity. Maybe relief at the fact that he got out at all? Aaron could not entirely rely on what he knew about Adam prior to his kidnapping. Adam had been (and still was, clearly) a brilliant and strong-willed individual, who fought for what he believed in. His mother had raised him to be a liberal activist, touting political rhetoric and ideology that Aaron could not afford to have himself in his position.

The disbelief made sense. People who survived extended captivity are often not allowed knowledge of the time and days. It assisted in making the victims feel as if there is no other life but the one they have with their captors—after some point, their memories of their life before fade and are replaced by captivity. Those three years must have felt much longer to Adam.

As for the exhaustion, Aaron remembered his promise to Haley, and let Adam get some sleep.

…

They found nothing more in their search, and Adam wouldn’t elaborate much more than he had already told Aaron. He seemed confused by many of the questions. Such as: “Can you describe Michael for us?" 

“Describe him?”

“Like his physical appearance, what he wore, what he said, and did.”

A blank stare. There was no comprehension, and a quick glance to Jason had confirmed that Aaron was not the only one perplexed by this confusion.

Adam had swallowed. Nervous. Why? “I can’t… answer that. It doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

Further questions had not been more fruitful. Asking about Lucifer had similar results. So, instead: “Can you tell us about the time you spent in captivity with Sam Winchester?”

Adam had mulled this question over for about a minute, but he hadn’t seemed distressed by the question or mention of the serial killer he had been captured with. “He… tried to protect me.”

That seemed—true, at least as what Adam believed. “Why did Sam Winchester try to protect you?”

Adam shrugged. “It was his fault I was there.”

“In what way? What happened?”

Adam gazed into space. He didn’t answer.

“Adam. I need to know this so I can help you.”

Silence. No reaction.

“Were you sexually assaulted by your captors or the Winchester at any point?”

The most emotion Aaron had seen of Adam since arriving. Outrage. Disgust. Shame. “No,” he said horrified and afraid, curling into himself and hiding his face in his knees. Aaron might have pushed him too far, but he had to ask. Adam had refused a rape kit when it was offered, and the hospitals’ psychiatrist thought it was likely that Adam had been raped. While a high likelihood anyway given the length of his captivity, the psychiatrist had noted that Adam had described Michael as having been “inside him.” Denial that it had happened was not uncommon, especially in male victims. Michael might have even convinced Adam to give “consent” through coercion and force; it certainly seemed that way.

“I’m sorry, Adam. I needed to know. We’re going to help you.”

Adam curled in on himself tighter.

...

Adam refused to answer more questions, withdrawing into himself when inquiries were directed at him. It was a bad sign—they might re-traumatize him in this way. They had the pertinent information they needed at the moment, so they backed off. Jason attempted his subtler approaches to interrogation, cajoling Adam into games of chess with questions that sounded casual but weren’t. Building a lasting rapport with Adam was impossible for Jason though, as Adam’s memory of Jason seemed to escape through a sieve between each visit.

“Who are you?” Adam asked Jason for the fourth time meeting him.

“Jason. I’m your uncle’s coworker,” Jason supplied, with a patient and small smile. “We’ve played chess together a couple of times already.”

Silence, but Adam’s gaze was focused, and on Jason. “We have?”

“Your doctor says that the trauma you’ve survived has altered your brain chemistry and brain activity. She also suspects specific head trauma, as well. Were you hit on the head at all while captive?”

Adam had a uniquely surprised expression, that Aaron was convinced meant that they had asked a question he thought had an obvious answer that they should already know. “Yeah. There was a lot of torture.” 

Aaron stiffened, and Jason discretely glanced his way. Aaron tilted his head, to show to Jason that it was fine, and he should proceed.

“Can you tell us what was done to you?”

“Everything.”

Aaron swallowed. He reassured himself that it couldn’t be entirely true—Adam had surprisingly few marks on him, all of his limbs attached, and nothing less visible missing. There were still plenty of ways to hurt someone that wouldn’t leave a mark, or that would heal without a mark, but at least Adam was in one piece.

(In the x-rays, Aaron specifically asked if Adam still had all of his organs. Though startled, the technician confirmed that he did and pointed them out in the x-ray.

Kate had been missing her spleen, pancreas, kidneys, heart, and liver when they found her body. And lots of muscles. Her face had been a rictus of horror and pain.

That hadn’t happened to Adam, but evidence suggested he had been witness to it.)

“Can you describe what they did?”

Annoyance. “I already told you.”

“Can you be more detailed?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Adam snapped, “I don’t want to.” So far, Adam lashed out in irritation only at Jason; with Aaron, he withdrew. Neither were productive, and provoking him intentionally was out of the question, but at least he was still speaking to them this way.

“That’s fine,” Jason soothed. If they came to a stopping point, they had to redirect. “Have you thought about what you want to do next?”

“I’m going to sleep after you and Uncle Aaron leave.”

A pause, where neither Jason or Aaron reacted beyond soft smiles. If it was literal, laughing could put Adam in a poorer mental state. But if he was joking intentionally, it should be encouraged.

“I meant long-term plans,” Jason clarified gently.

Adam had that expression again. “Long-term?”

“When you’ve recovered. Would you like to go back to school, for example?”

“I—I don’t know. I haven’t—thought about that, in a while." 

“Think about it. You have time. We know people at Georgetown University who would be happy to have you with your grades and scores.” 

Cautious joy and sadness. Adam looked overwhelmed. Not unsurprisingly, his breathing picked up and his eyes grew watery, and he turned his head away from them.

“I… I think I would like that. Not now. But probably soon. I want to go to school.”

“Then you will,” Aaron told him. “One step at a time.”

…

“Who are you?”

“Jason,” said Jason without a trace of irritation. “I’m your uncle’s coworker. You’ve been cleared to leave.”

“I have?”

“Yes,” Aaron answered, with a smile. “You’re going home.” Adam relaxed.

They hadn’t found any bodies, and Adam had not been able to give them anything. He considered bringing the team in, even beginning the process by sending the relevant information to Garcia to see if she could turn up any online trails. There was nothing—no leads beyond the only survivor telling them that his captors were already dead because he killed them himself. Even if the Bureau would allow it, Aaron’s team had too many time-sensitive cases to spend chasing after corpses.

And after a week, Adam had been cleared physically, and the hospital psychiatrist did not consider him a danger to himself or others. There were things to look out for—PTSD, self-harm, depression, inability to regulate emotions—but Aaron was experienced with those, and Haley reviewed the information he sent her religiously. 

Time to take Adam home.

…

Haley sobbed too hard when she first saw Adam to really react to his mystified, “Whoa, you’re huge.” She might have laughed through her tears, but if so, it mixed too well with her sobs.

Then they began to aim for a new normalcy.

It went smoother than expected. Aaron scheduled a couple of personal days to help get Adam settled, but ended up drawn away to track down a serial arsonist. He returned home, weary and dismayed at the result of the case, to find Adam and Haley watching a romantic comedy. If not for Adam’s rather vacant expression, it would have been reminiscent of any other time Adam and Kate had visited them.

According to Haley, Adam had done nothing most of the time while Aaron had been gone. And Haley had left him alone—she wanted to support Adam, but give him space to adjust as well. She respected this, but quickly realized that without prompting, he would not eat. Or bathe. And if asked, he was fairly amendable to most any mundane task. 

“He joined me on a walk through the park,” Haley told Aaron quietly in bed. “He helped me make dinner when I asked. When I asked about a movie, he nodded, but wouldn’t say a preference, so I picked something as inoffensive and non-violent as possible.”

“Good decision.” What had Adam been allowed to do in captivity? Had he been able to do anything without being specifically told to do it? 

“He makes me think of shell shocked soldiers,” Haley whispered. 

“The best we can do right now is to give him some routine. Start having him make small choices. Try to get him to pick out dinner or the movie next time, if he will. Don’t push too far, though.” 

“I won’t.” A pause. Haley cuddled into his arms. “You think he was raped, don’t you?”

He squeezed his arms around Haley a little bit. “Yes.”

She began to cry. Aaron held her in his arms until they fell asleep.

…

Though Aaron was hardly around to see it, Haley and Adam found something resembling a normal routine. The guilt Aaron felt for not being there for Haley during her pregnancy both increased and subsided with this development. On one hand, Haley was not alone. On the other hand, their traumatized nephew could not be expected to be helpful, good company, or filling in the supportive role that Aaron was not.

When he voiced his concerns to Haley, she mused, “I think it’s actually helping him. He seems to have problems focusing, you know? Helping with regular meals and coming with me to my appointments gives him something to focus on.” 

Adam’s demeanor in general hadn’t changed. And when Aaron had a few days between cases to be at home to observe, he noticed Adam’s irregular sleep schedule, but he wasn’t able to pinpoint what was happening until his next few days at home. Adam would stay up for two or three days at a time, and then sleep for about the same amount of time.

Sleep problems were a common symptom of PTSD. Hopefully it would balance itself out, or Adam’s psychiatrist would be able to help him. Unless Adam was deemed a danger to himself or others, his sessions were confidential.

So when Aaron woke in the middle of the night to a light coming in through under the door, he got up to join Adam.

Adam was watching television. He did that a lot, actually. Aaron wondered if he had had television while captive.

Suddenly, Adam tensed and his eyes found Aaron’s. He relaxed just as suddenly and ignored Aaron’s presence with unfeigned indifference as he joined Adam on the couch.

“What are you watching?”

“Doctor Who,” Adam responded quietly. On the screen, a man in a brown suit came running out of a big, blue, police box. Aaron was pretty sure that Reid liked this show. “I have a lot of catching up to do. I wasn’t caught up before—I had only watched through the first half of the second season.”

“How many seasons are there?”

“It’s still going. It’s on its seventh season,” Adam answered. “And there’s also the original series. Which was 26 seasons.”

A hideous, wrinkly alien holding a glowing orb showed up on screen. Science fiction didn’t really interest Aaron, not with the horrors he knew already existed, but if Adam was talking: “Can you tell me what’s happening in the show right now? What’s that thing?”

Stilted and quietly, Adam explained what the Doctor was, what an ‘ood’ was, and what was happening in the episode. It was absurd, but Aaron went back to bed a couple hours later feeling accomplished.

…

The team found out about Adam because Doctor Who. And Reid.

Aaron didn’t catch the start of the conversation (which likely wouldn’t have helped contextualize it anyway, knowing Reid), but what he heard was, “In theory, time travel _is_ possible, but travel within it relies on how time actually functions, which we have theories on, but not clear certainty. Isaac Newton theorized that there was Universal Time, that didn’t vary, which is contradictory to Einstein’s theory of Relative Time. Fiction likes to play around with this, but you’ll notice that the mode of travel changes on how time is thought of. For example, the Grandfather Paradox only occurs in fiction where time is modeled as Universal and linear. Doctor Who, for example, shows a more Relative time model, though in some instances it’s Universal with some situations creating a paradox. Though it doesn’t really give us any idea of how time travel might be possible in the future, like Star Trek has with advancements in technology, as it relies on alien technology to allow travel through time and space.”

“That’s the one with the big, blue telephone booth, right?” Morgan asked. He had a few stacks of paperwork in front of him that he was clearly using Reid to steadfastly ignore.

“It’s a police box,” Aaron interjected before Reid could begin. “Round table in five. We have a case.”

A stunned silence, and then, “You watch Doctor Who!” God forbid, Reid was practically bouncing.

Aaron never particularly liked discouraging Reid from his rambling, as it always calmed him down and he was there with them precisely for his esoteric knowledge. When they weren’t on a case, there wasn’t any harm. His team teased Reid about it, but more often than not, they would let him go on for at least a few minutes. It was its own kind of break, like how Morgan was doing. So he said, “I watched a couple episodes with my nephew.”

“Which ones?”

“We have a case, Reid.”

Reid pursed his lips, and the excitement settled down into a much more appropriate professionalism.

Then they got started.

… 

“I didn’t know you had a nephew,” Morgan said on the jet after they’ve finished the case. Like vultures, the entire team (even including Jason) shifted their attention to Aaron, waiting for something to distract them from the case.

“I do have a nephew, and have had one for twenty-two years.”

“You’ve never mentioned him before,” Elle said. Her eyes are bright and teasing. But Adam is not a joke. Adam’s cold case on his desk for three years wasn’t a joke.

“He was kidnapped three years ago and missing until two months ago. I had little reason to mention him.”

It got the desired effect; Elle paled and turned her face away, all teasing gone. She asked, “You found him? Is he okay?”

“He’s doing better than expected.” And he was. Odd sleep schedules and lack of emotive facial expressions aside, Adam was functioning quite well. There had been no lashing out, nor bursts of anger. Sticking with Haley for daily tasks really did seem to be the grounding foundation he needed. And, as Haley told him, Adam was genuinely helpful to her in the last couple months of her pregnancy.

“You and Gideon took March 14th to March 21st to privately investigate something in Michigan two months ago, ” Reid suddenly said. “The exact case wasn’t disclosed to any of us. Because it was your nephew.” This was the biggest downside of working on an FBI team of profiles, honestly. Profilers were difficult enough; but a whole team of them interested in your personal life and one who had eidetic memory just became a crockpot of shit. 

“Yes, it was.”

“You catch the guy who did it?”

Glancing at Morgan, Aaron said definitively, “We were not able to find their bodies. And that’s enough questions. What happened to my nephew is personal.”

After an awkward pause of silence, Reid began, “Kidnappings where the perpetrator is a stranger only makes up 24% of the total number of kidnappings that occur in the United States. As we know, the likelihood of recovering the child alive grows smaller and smaller as time goes on, but the statistics for finding missing children in the US are actually quite good. Though three years is a long time. It must have been—” At Reid’s abrupt stop, the entire team, including Aaron and Jason, looked towards him.

“Must have been what, Reid?”

“I… it was probably sexually motivated. Long captivity is unusual in kidnappings, so it was likely an intimacy seeking stalker or a predatory stalker. I couldn’t say, for sure, without more information, but based just on those facts—”

“That’s enough, Reid,” Jason interrupted.

The issue was shelved, but not forgotten. No matter. The team would pry, but hopefully they would wait until Aaron had reached a new normal with Adam's re-entry into their lives.


	2. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack arrives. Adam wants to reconnect with his old friends.

Three months after Adam was found, Haley gave birth to Jack. 

Aaron left the office early for the first time in years to be there. Adam had already gotten Haley to the hospital, and was displaying an unusually amount of focus than normal for him. Haley was gripping Adam’s hand tight, but Adam showed no discomfort. Despite his focus, he was enviably calm. 

Adam slid away from the room when Aaron took his place by Haley’s side, and after that, Aaron didn’t worry about where Adam was or what he was doing for a while.

…

Adam flittered on the edges of Aaron’s awareness at the hospital and when they got back home from the hospital. That is, Adam was around often, but seemed to be specifically avoiding the three of them now Jack was born.

Haley figured it out before Aaron did. 

“Adam, would you like to hold Jack?” Haley asked from in the nursery, to Adam, who was lingering in the doorway. 

“Oh, no,” Adam said, visibly alarmed. That was an emotion Aaron hadn’t yet seen on Adam since they had found him. “No, I can’t.” 

“Of course you can,” Haley soothed. “Come over here.”

Stiltedly, Adam came over. Haley waited patiently, and carefully handed over Jack. Adam’s shoulders tense. Aside from Haley, Adam had not touched or been touched by another living being since he left the hospital, and even that was sparingly.

Haley handed Jack over, and Adam stared at him like he’d never seen a baby before. The wariness faded into a tense skepticism. 

“What do I do?” 

“Just hold him… make sure you support his head… yes, like that.” 

Adam’s hold was awkward; he quickly surrendered Jack back to Haley, and ducked out of the room. Over the next few weeks, though, when Adam lingered on the periphery, Haley and Aaron offered to show him how to do various things—how to soothe Jack, to change him, to bathe him, and Adam received all of these lessons nervous but willingly. 

Though Aaron remained adamant that they not leave Adam and Jack alone. “He’s never shown any sign of violence,” Haley protested, when Aaron told her as much. “He’s never even raised his voice!”

“No, he hasn’t. And when he does? When will that happen?”

“He’s been doing so well so far.”

“So far,” Aaron repeated. “Honey, he’s gone through years of trauma. The question isn’t a matter of _if_ he’ll have a breakdown, it’s _when_.”

Haley’s lips pursed, but nodded slowly. “It would be an unfair potential stressor to place on him, no matter how well he seems he’s doing." 

“Exactly,” Aaron said, relieved.

“He still can’t really take care of himself,” Haley added.

Aaron hadn’t noticed that. “He can’t?” His sleep schedule was still unusual, but he seemed to be doing the basics of eating and bathing. Aaron didn’t think Adam would manage to do mundane tasks like laundry or cleaning if left to his own devices, but, well—that was why he wasn’t on his own. 

“He doesn’t remember to eat,” Haley said. “He doesn’t seem to feel it. I got him a phone and programmed an eating schedule into it, to remind him to. He eats all his meals at least with me, but just in case… he should have something independent of a person.” 

Aaron hadn’t been aware of that, but shoved down his discomfort.

…

Work took Aaron away from home for days at a time. Serial killers and spree murderers never took breaks for family emergencies, so Haley was left to handle Jack and Adam on her own. Aaron felt a twisting in his gut thinking on it, but dealing with a serial spree killer hunting people down at parks took priority.

(Work always took priority.)

Having to beat one of his subordinates so Reid could get a kill shot in distracted him pretty sufficiently too.

Work and home became a delicate balancing act—Haley wanted Aaron home more often to help with Jack, but she was not alone, technically. Aaron wanted to be home more often, to both care for Jack and watch for Adam’s inevitable break down, but his psychiatric noted no hint of violence. 

Aaron almost got to the point where he fell into complacency, to expect Adam’s curious pendulum expressions of disconnect and laser focus, when Adam had a request. 

“I want to get back on Facebook,” Adam said, jolting Aaron and Haley out of their conversation diaper brands. 

“What?” asked Haley.

Aaron began to consider the risks, and very quickly came to the firm conclusion of, “No.”

“What?” asked Haley again, this time directed at Aaron.

“It’s too dangerous. He spent time imprisoned with known serial killers, and regardless of their intentions, we do not want to draw their attention back to Adam.” And while Adam said his captors, Michael and Lucifer, were dead, there might have been others Adam had never seen or didn’t recollect. Perhaps Dean and Sam were or had been part of whatever Michael and Lucifer were doing. Perhaps since then they had decided they wanted to continue it. Perhaps they thought Adam was one of them and wanted him to join them in their murdering sprees.

Despite the Winchester’s erratic behavior, nothing suggested that they would just like Adam go. If they knew where he was—if they knew he was alive—they would come after him.

“But what about his friends, Aaron? He should be able to get in touch with his friends.”

“It’s too risky. He can’t have an online profile anywhere.”

“What about contacting individuals?” 

Aaron paused, biting back his immediate response of ‘no.’ Contacting the presumably few individuals Adam wanted to connect with was a reasonable compromise. It wouldn’t be as quick as Adam or Haley would like—Aaron would have to ask Garcia to track down their contact info, notify them discretely, impress upon them the necessity of that discretion… it wasn’t as safe as not contacting them. But it wouldn’t greatly increase the danger that Adam already had, staying with known relatives.

“We can—” Aaron turned to face Adam and stopped. If Aaron had described Adam’s expression as blank before, that had been nothing compared to the stony, disquieting stillness of Adam now. Chills went down Aaron’s spine. A moment spiked fear that seemed crystalized into a lifetime, and Aaron found himself stuttering, “We can probably contact a few individuals. But it’ll take time.”

Adam’s shouldered relaxed, and his gaze went back to his food. Aaron felt a rush of relief, excused himself from the kitchen for a walk, and called Jason when he was several blocks away.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asked when answering.

“Something is wrong with Adam,” Aaron said. “I’m worried.”

“Ah,” Jason said, tone shifting. “We know that’s expected Aaron.”

“This isn’t expected. This is something worse.” Aaron had felt terrified for an instant of his own nephew. “There’s something… terrifying about him now.”

Jason was silent, and Aaron felt a kernel of uncertainty that he would take him seriously. But then, tentatively, “Do you think you, Haley, or Jack are in danger?”

“I want to say no,” Aaron said, truthfully—shamefully. He had already known how it felt to want to defend a family member when they were dangerous. He knew it personally, and continued to see it in almost every case, where people ignore the signals they react to, allowing more death and tragedy to follow. Aaron knew he couldn’t let it come to that. “I need help with this.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Jason said. “But he didn’t seem particularly amendable to my efforts. Perhaps someone else on the team?”

Who on the team would best be able to get through to Adam? “Morgan?” Morgan would be best for understanding sexual trauma, but Adam’s reactions were not _usual_ in the way that Morgan was adept at. “Reid, maybe?” 

“I was thinking Reid. Adam might respond better to someone he could consider a peer.”

“Just because they’re the same age, Jason—”

“Have you tried to play chess with him, Aaron? Or had a conversation about his studies?”

No. Aaron had been to busy at work to talk to Adam beyond some conversations about how he was doing in the middle of the night. Haley might have, but she either hadn’t mentioned it to Aaron, or more likely, she had been to busy with Jack to ask Adam about his interests in continuing his education.

Jason understood his silence correctly. “He’s very smart, Aaron. Smarter than his grades from university would suggest, even. He casually mentioned the origin of chess during one of our games and gave me a detailed history of how it spread from India to the rest of the world.”

“So you think Reid would be able to engage him and get him talking.”

“Yes. I do.”

It started to rain. Aaron brushed his hair back up out of his face. “All right. I’ll talk to Reid tomorrow at work. I’ll ask if he’s willing to do this.”

With a promise to keep Jason updated, Aaron hung up and headed home.


End file.
